


Gadreel Prompts and One Shots

by The_Hinky_Panda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Hinky_Panda/pseuds/The_Hinky_Panda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever I receive a prompt or an idea for a one shot that will center around Gadreel, I will add it here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Music

Music had been around since before the Garden. Melodies, notes, harmonization…all of it. Some even believed that God didn’t just speak the universe into existence, but rather sang it into being. It was a lovely thought for Gadreel, who had spent countless years trying to sing something, anything into his world of silence and isolation.

Then Abner came:  angry, bitter and petulant. He too had been a guard but the story was sketchy at best as to what landed him in the prison cell. Gadreel didn’t really care what crime had been committed, he had a companion now. He had someone to look at, interact with, talk to even. But every attempt at communication was rebuffed by Abner who would curl up in the corner of the cell and bury his head in his arms.

Gadreel didn’t blame him for this reaction. He was certain he was a frightful thing to look at now. Thousands of years of imprisonment, scars on top of scars decorated with fresh wounds. His wings were bedraggled, useless things with patches of missing feathers and the left one he couldn’t even fully extend anymore. 

The first time Abner showed any interest in his cellmate was a day when Thaddeus was feeling especially vindictive. There was no privacy in the prison. The beatings took place in front of everyone. The humiliation was a public spectacle and Thaddeus was a performer through and through.  Gadreel wasn’t even sure what exactly transpired due to his eyes being almost swollen shut and his consciousness fading in and out. 

When his mind did clear and his vision returned, he saw Abner had once again retreated to the back corner of the cell. But there was something wrong though. Picking himself up off the stone floor, he lurched his way over to the shaking angel in the corner. 

“Abner?” 

“Go away.” 

Gadreel looked to the others in the adjacent cells. Only one of them made eye contact with him. 

“He told Thaddeus to stop.” 

It was a fate worse than death. The first thing that every imprisoned angel learned was to never stand against Thaddeus. If he wanted you to scream, you screamed. If he wanted you to beg, you fell on your knees and groveled. You never, ever asked anything of him and you certainly didn’t demand it.   
Ignoring the protests, Gadreel turned Abner towards the wane light that always burned in the prison. Even in the semi-darkness he could see the sigils carved into Abner’s flesh. Enochian symbols of pain, discomfort and fire. It was a torture that would last until Abner had the strength to heal himself. 

Or another angel could heal him. Gadreel was weak himself, had his own healing to attend to at the moment. But his silent and angry cellmate had stood up for him and suddenly Gadreel’s wounds didn’t see to sting as much anymore. Drawing up as much grace as he could, he gave it to Abner. He willing the sigils the close and disappear, for the blood to stop flowing. 

It worked but there was a price. Gadreel’s injuries worsened as the grace that would have healed them went to another angel. He didn’t even have the strength to drag himself over to the opposite corner but instead curled himself up in Abner’s corner and hoped the other angel didn’t mind. Considering he wasn’t forced to move at any point, he took it as the first sign of tolerance from his cellmate. 

Thaddeus was not pleased when he returned to see his handiwork completely faded away. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what had happened when Gadreel was still seeping blood and feathers while Abner looked the same as the day he was tossed into the cell. Thaddeus pulled his angel blade out and twirled it in his hand.   
“Poor, friendless, stupid Gadreel. It never ceases to amaze me how after all this time we spent together you still don’t understand your lesson.” 

Gadreel remained sitting propped up against the wall. He hated it when Thaddeus got chatty. “And what’s that?” 

“Your actions have consequences. Because you decided to play doctor with your cellmate, I can’t do anything to you today. On the other hand,” Thaddeus smirked, “you did give me a fresh palate to work on. Maybe if I cut the sigils deeper this time, they’ll last longer.” 

It became a routine for them after that. Seven hundred years of being taken apart and being put back together. Gadreel used most of his strength to keep Abner together but being in the weakened condition he was in, it took focus. It took music. He found if he distracted them both with the gentle hum of music, the task went quicker.   
There were certain songs Abner liked better than others and would request those. The one that Gadreel sang most often happened to be the first song that Adam sang to Eve. It was a lilting melody speaking of companionship, solidarity and love. It was a song that he had listened to many a time while standing on the outskirts of the Garden. 

But then, seven hundred years to the day, Gadreel woke from another vicious beating to find himself alone again in the cell. There was no trace that Abner had ever even resided in the space and Gadreel was forced to wonder if he really had sung the friendship into existence.


	2. Technology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Anon on tumblr wanted to see Gadreel coping with technology.

Gadreel’s vessel didn’t have many possessions. He was a simple man, preferring books over the electronic tablets the bar patrons carried in with them. Gadreel had to admit, he enjoyed reading the books that were on the shelves of the small apartment. Some he enjoyed more than others as he preferred happy endings. He learned the hard way that John Green was not fond of happy endings. Jane Austen, however, was more inclined to end on lighter notes. 

He didn’t have cable or satellite TV as it seemed most other people did. So when the bar patrons would ask him if he saw “the game” last night or if he had watched the season finale of “Game of Thrones” he would just shake his head no. What few channels he did have, he didn’t care for what they showed. Thirty minute shows of unhappy families that were supposed to be comedic and local news programs that only reported the murders, deaths and other unsavory goings on outside his door. He had seen enough violence to last him a life time. 

But the silence bothered him. When we went to work at the bar, keeping up the appearance of his vessel, he was surrounded by noise and tasks. He was busy and he enjoyed it. Coming back to the apartment, there were no real tasks to perform. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep. The TV provided noise but the images unsettled him for the most part. So he would read but the quiet would unnerve him. 

Then he discovered a little device tucked away in the beat up old desk. It was still in the sealed plastic box: an iPod. He spent the entire night and into the early morning reading the directions and user terms and agreement (which he couldn’t tell if it had a happy ending or not but agreed to it regardless). After all of his reading, he knew the device was for music but how did he know what kind of music he wanted. 

He knew one of the waitress’ at the bar used Pandora when she was busy in the back cleaning dishes. Now that he had an iPod in his hand, he understood better what she was talking about concerning the free radio app. He found much more peace, reading his books and drowning out the silences with Pandora while he waited for whatever Metatron wanted from him next. 

For now though, he secluded himself with words and music.


	3. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing scene from Meta Fiction where Dean goes back to talk to Gadreel for a second time.

   
He is imprisoned again.  
   
Shackled, warded and bloodied once more.  
   
Dean Winchester is a man of his word, Gadreel has come to learn that fact very quickly from his time inside Sam. Dean’s threat of leaving him in the chains and warding is still ringing in his ears when Dean returns. He tries to hide his confusion at Dean’s reappearance but he fails miserably at it. He’s used up all his threats and taunts. Dean won’t kill him because he knows that is what Gadreel wants him to do. There really is nothing else to say. So Gadreel keeps his peace and Dean keeps his. For an hour they stare at each other before Dean breaks the silence.  
   
“I don’t get you.”    
   
Gadreel hates to inform him but there really isn’t much to get. He wants redemption, restoration. He thought he was willing to pay the price but murder is very costly and he finds himself emotionally broke because of it.  
   
“You’re out there, working for the new Boss. Following orders, enjoying some kickbacks. Sounds pretty good.” Dean leans down so he’s on eye level with Gadreel. “So why the death wish? You really that scared of being locked up again? Or do you not like the new guy sitting in your Daddy’s chair?”  
   
Gadreel rallies as much confidence as he can find. “I was God’s most trusted. And now? I am Metatron’s second in command.”  
   
“So that’s what second in commands do? Carry out assassinations and slaughter those who think differently? Who want something different?” Dean smirks. “That’s not power or position. That’s  some grunt doing the dirty work for a dictator.”  
   
Gadreel’s hands flex on their own, tightening into fists.

“Huh. Didn’t like that?” Dean shrugs. “Don’t like the idea that maybe you’re just getting played again? Seems to be the recurring theme of your sad, pathetic little life. But you don’t learn, do you? Deceived by Lucifer and now Metatron. We have a name for people like you down here. Chumps.” 

“I know what you are trying to do. You are trying to anger me, cause me to lash out so you will have a reason to do what you wanted to do to me earlier.” Gadreel unclenches his fists and opens his palms. “I am telling you, you do not need a reason, Dean Winchester.” 

“But I have plenty of reasons though.” 

“Then why are you here? I thought you were going to leave me to rot in these chains. You would not be the first person to do that to me. And yet you returned. For what? A chat? An act of mercy? Or is this a test?” 

Dean circles around him. “A test for what?” 

“I know about that mark that is burned into your arm. I can feel it, the darkness around it. The darkness you are fighting against. It is not a fight that you will win.” 

“And you know all about that, do you?” Dean laughs. “Fighting on the winning side. Good overcoming evil? Hate to break it to you douche bag but you’re the evil one here. You’re the one on the losing side.” 

And suddenly Gadreel sees the exposed flank of his opponent. He sees the means to his horrible and terrible end. He stands slowly from the chair. The angel trap holds him in place but the fact that he is now looking down at Dean puts the man on the defensive. Gadreel smirks. 

“We are not on the opposite side of things, Dean. That’s where you are wrong.” 

“And how’s that asshole?” 

“We are the same.” Dean starts to deny it but Gadreel pushes forward. “You say I have placed my trust in a dictator? How would you describe your alliance with the demon Crowley? Or making deals with god knows what creature to attain that mark?” 

“So why are you doing the things you’re doing, huh?” 

“For the same reason you are. For family.” 

The first blow lands squarely on his jaw but Gadreel bends with the force. 

“We are nothing alike. You lie to your family.” 

“Just as you lied to Sam about my presence.” 

The second hit is aimed higher, connecting with his temple. He sees bright spots momentarily before his vision clears. 

“You slaughtered them!” 

“Just as you slaughter those who stand against you!” 

The third time, Dean’s fist connects with Gadreel’s nose. The power behind it causes the angel to lose his footing. In a desperate scramble to remain standing, he becomes tangled in the chair and both of them crash to the floor. Gadreel realizes he is outside of the angel trap now but Dean sees it too and is on top of him immediately. 

“We are not the same!” 

Gadreel spits out a mouthful of blood and grins with red stained teeth. “It really is like looking into a fun house mirror, isn’t it?” 

Dean grabs a fistful of Gadreel’s shirt and pulls him closer so they are almost nose to bloody nose. “You want to know what I think?” 

“Please, enlightened me.” 

“I think I’m not the only one in this room who’s Daddy didn’t love him enough.” 

Gadreel knows Dean is right. It was a truth that he had learned early on in his imprisonment. God abandoned them all because Gadreel has listened to Lucifer instead of his Father. But to show acknowledgement of that would not give Gadreel want he wants. So with cuffed hands, he grabs at Dean’s jacket and shakes him as best he can. 

“That is where we are different. When I ask for forgiveness, my Father will forgive me. What about your father, Dean? Does he love enough to forgive?” 

And Gadreel bows his head and lets Dean beat him into blissful unconsciousness. It isn’t death but it is the next best thing. At least it is a reprieve from all the doubt and desperation he has been feeling.


	4. Ferdinand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abner's daughter has a new book for her father to read to her. But when he does, he can't help but think of a long lost friend.

“Daddy, it’s story time!”  
   
Abner looks at the clock and sees it is 8:15 in the evening. Indeed it is story time. Delilah’s love of reading was something that his vessel never encouraged which Abner couldn’t even fathom. There were many things that his vessel thought and did that confused Abner. But Alexander Sarver had prayed for a miracle, a change that would keep his family together when his wife threatened divorce.  
   
Abner was the answer.  
   
Immediately the change had happened. The shouting, the accusations, the hitting all ceased. “Alexander” became quiet, appreciative and mild mannered. It allowed Abner to learn what it was to be a human and for his family to adjust to proper treatment. Now, Ruth smiles, Delilah brings a book to him every night for them read together and Abner could not be happier.  
   
“So what are we reading tonight?” he asks her as she climbs up into the chair next to him.  
   
“Mommy took me to the library today so it’s one we haven’t read before.”  
   
Abner takes the book and looks at the red cover with flowers and a bull. “Ferdinand the Bull.”  
   
“Uh-huh.”  
   
He opens the book and starts to read. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand.”  
   
He continues to read the story, learning that this particular bull enjoys sitting under a cork tree and smelling the flowers. He’s different from the other bulls as he doesn’t play with them, butting heads or being aggressive. He’s able to read the words but think of another time and place many, many years ago.  
   
He may not have known a bull who liked to sit under trees and smell flowers but he most certainly knew an angel that did. An angel that he had called friend for close to seven hundred years.  
   
There weren’t many in Heaven’s prison but the angels that were quickly became twisted, misshapen beings that even Naomi couldn’t straighten out. But not beaten, battered, broken winged Gadreel. Abner wasn’t sure what he expected when the guards tossed him in with the Serpent’s helper. He had heard all the stories, all the theories and Gadreel was not what the stories made him out to be.  
   
He had suffered for thousands of years before Abner darkened the corner of his cell. Gadreel’s wings were beyond repair, scars upon scars marring his grace. He barely spoke but when he did the words were not curses or oaths like the angels around them used in their despicable state. He spoke of a time that hardly any of them had witnessed. He would describe what the Garden of Eden looked like. He would read off the events of the days when Adam and Eve were perfect and what they did in the Garden.  
   
“When you leave and go to Earth, you should find a place where the cherry trees are in bloom. Tiny, delicate pink blossoms on the branches. And when the petals fall, it creates a blanket of pink underneath the tree. It is a miracle by itself.” 

But it was the description of the flowers that always fascinated Abner. In the worst, darkest times when Abner didn’t want to draw another breath, Gadreel would be there, realigning feathers and using whatever grace he had to offer to take the sting out of the wounds as he spoke of the beauty he witnessed. 

“There was a place in Eden where vines had grown over these rock walls. The flowers on the vines were multicolored, vivd hues. Reds, yellows, oranges, the blooms as large as a human’s head. And the scent as you walked down the corridor of the flower lined walls was unlike anything I had ever experienced.”

But Gadreel is gone. He had heard from Thaddeus himself that the angel who guarded Eden, loved everything that was in it and still let the Serpent in, had broken. Completely and utterly, he was gone. And Abner still grieves for the loss of his friend, especially when he reaches the ending of the book. As he reads the words, he wishes from the very center of his being, that Gadreel and Ferdinand could share the same ending.

“And for all I know he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy.” 

“I liked that book, Daddy.” 

Abner smiles, the sting of the loss of his friend still smarting. “Yes, I liked it too.” 

“We should plant flowers this weekend,” Ruth suggests from the couch where she was knitting. “In honor of Ferdinand.” 

Delilah looks up at him, eyes full of hope. “Can we, Daddy?” 

“Of course. That’s a wonderful idea.” 

***

Saturday comes, brisk and cool with the stray shower. Ruth and Delilah pick out the flowers and it is Abner’s job to plant them in the front flowerbed. That is where he is, digging in the dirt, thinking of bulls and gardens and lost friends, when a stranger wanders into his yard. 

“Alexander Sarver?” 

He finishes the hole he’s digging before standing up and brushing the dirt from his hands. “Yeah?” 

He turns and it takes him a minute to recognize the person standing in front of him. The wings are still broken. The grace is still scarred. But he is alive, living, breathing. 

Gadreel is alive. 

Ferdinand still has a chance at being happy after all.


	5. Acceptance

“I tell ya, if the dumb sonofabitch was in front of me, I’d hug the hell out of him.” 

Gadreel watched the grizzled old man lift a beer glass to his mouth with a gnarled hand. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but apparently one of the bar’s patrons was studying philosophy at the local college and posed the question concerning who was to blame for the fall of mankind. He hadn’t listened in from his corner until someone mentioned his name. 

Gadreel from the book of Enoch was listed as one of five Satans. He apparently was the one who tempted Eve.

It made him sick to his stomach. He had never tempted anyone. But he couldn’t exactly stand up and defend himself so he stayed where he was and tried to look interested in the basketball game on the tv over the bar. That was until the old man spoke up and then Gadreel couldn’t help but stare. 

The college student laughed. “Why in the world would you hug someone who ruined paradise for us all?” 

The old man set his glass down. “What’s your major?” 

“Philosophy.” 

“What did you Mama and Daddy want you to study?” 

The kid laughs and shrugs. “They wanted me to go into banking.” 

“So what made you choose philosophy?” 

“Because I wanted to do it.” 

The old man opened his hands. “Free will. Wouldn’t have happened unless whoever it was convinced Eve to make a decision on her own.” 

“Yeah,” another patron asked, “but it was the wrong decision.” 

“Still her decision.” He pointed to the college kid. “You parents think you’re making the right decision with your major?” 

“No.” 

The old man slid off the barstool and dropped his cash on the bar. “Better go thank Eve.” 

Gadreel waited for a few minutes before going outside and starting to head back to Metatron’s base. As he passed by a darkened doorstep, he heard the familiar cough of the old man. 

“There sure is a lot of you guys hanging around lately.” 

Gadreel stopped and turned to face the man. He was leaning on a cane, a cigarette in his other hand. 

“You guys?” Gadreel repeats. “I don’t understand what you mean.” 

The man waves his hand, the glowing end of his cigarette bouncing in the dark. “Angels.” 

“How do you know?” 

He shrugs. “Call it a sixth sense. You’re an old one too.” 

Gadreel doesn’t know how a human can distinguish between angels and humans but decides it’s not a problem he wishes to take on. He starts to leave when the man begins to move towards him. 

“You were there, weren’t you? At the beginning of everything.” 

Gadreel clenches his jaw but nods. The man continues to move forward and is surprised when the old man reaches up and does exactly what he said he would back in the bar: he hugs him. It’s brief and ends with the man clapping Gadreel on the side of his face, the cigarette smoke stinging his nose. 

“Not all of us blame you, son. Some of us are thankful.” 

Gadreel tried to find a smile but had to devote that energy to keep from weeping.


	6. Father

Father

The fall from Heaven had been jarring in more ways than one. The fact that Gadreel had survived at all was a miracle in and of itself. Physically he was beyond damaged with shredded wings that wouldn’t fly and a grace twisted in on itself and pockmarked with scars. He would have to find a sturdy vessel to try to piece himself back together. 

Mentally he was a rock though. Layer upon layer of fortitude had been built, knocked down and rebuilt stronger by the thousands of years of torture. His mind was the only thing that was intact at the moment and he was thankful for that. It allows him to find a vessel, a man almost as bowed and broken as Gadreel himself. 

Desperate for a sign, anything to latch on to that will give him reason to wake up with the next sunrise, Gadreel answers the man’s plea. As he settles in the first vessel he’s ever taken, Gadreel tries his best to not cause discomfort or strain on the soul inside. He sees similarities to his grace, the wounds inflicted by others with their cruelty and the patchy repairs the man himself has tried to make. Gadreel curls himself around the soul and quiets the hurt, soothing the distress. The soul quiets and soon rests in its own creation of peace. 

Now in full control of the vessel, Gadreel tries for the first time to connect to his brothers and sisters. There is so much hurt and pain that comes across the link that he has to shut it down almost immediately. Like wounded animals, the angels are snarling and snapping at anything and everything. Even if he were brave enough to seek some of them out, the chances of him surviving the experience are very slim. 

So he turns to something else that he hasn’t been to do for the millennia: he turns to his Father for guidance. But he sits for hours in the dark of a small apartment in absolute silence with no response. He waits and only quiet answers him. His fortitude begins to slip with each minute that passes now. 

He had heard whispers through the dungeon, from Thaddeus himself, that God had left Heaven shorted after Eden fell. Thaddeus had told him it was Gadreel’s fault for their Father leaving them but Gadreel had thought it was just another taunt meant to do psychological damage. He never stopped once to think about it being a truthful statement. 

He falls to knees and tries not to be sick. Physically broken, mentally impenetrable but emotionally he is raw and scared as a brand new creation. He needs guidance, leadership, orders to follow. He needs forgiveness from the Father he wronged, comfort from the everlasting spring of love. But it’s gone, all gone because of one mistake. 

He wails, not with his vessel’s voice because it would tear apart the fragile human throat, but with what is left of his grace. It’s a rending sound, shattering all the glass in the apartment and the one next door. There is no hope of restoration now, no hope of forgiveness. So he lays on the floor, curled in a ball and cries for a lost Father and the prodigal who can never go home again.


	7. Freedom

Gadreel knows so little of the humans that he actually spends most of his time exploring his vessel’s home and allowing the man, Joe, to tell him of his life. It’s much better than just pulling the memories himself. This way, they are freely given and it doesn’t feel like theft. He is thankful his vessel is quite amiable towards him and talks freely during these times.  
   
Alright, Joe says as Gadreel unlocks the door to the townhouse in Texas. You’ve seen the DVD collection and the books. We’ve gone over food and how to make cocktails. Now there’s something that you really need to see. Go out to the garage.  
   
Gadreel makes his way through the home, checking to make sure everything is in order. When he returns home, he wants Joe to be able to step right back into his life as if nothing had changed. The house has remained untouched since his last visit so he goes downstairs and opens the door to the garage.  
   
See the thing covered with the tarp?  
   
“Yes.”  
   
Take off the tarp.  
   
Gadreel does as Joe tells him and reveals a vintage motorcycle. The chrome gleams even in the dim light. The fenders and accents are a bright cherry red and it has been meticulously cared for. It was just another wonderful creation of technology that the humans had created.  
   
She’s beautiful, isn’t she?  
   
Gadreel looks around the garage but he’s alone. “Who?”  
   
The bike, man!  
   
“I wasn’t aware objects such as motorcycles have a gender.”  
   
Technically they don’t but whenever you’re around a group of guys and they refer to their babies or beauties or whatever they have, it’ll always be a ‘she.’  
   
“Why is that?”  
   
Don’t know. It just is.  
   
Gadreel nods as he paces around the bike.  
   
She was my Dad’s. He bought her when he graduated high school and went to Annapolis to the Naval Academy. My mother lived in a small town called Elkton and he was quite smitten. Smitten enough to spend all his graduation money on this bike so he would be able to make the trip to see my mother whenever he had a chance.  
   
It was something that his father had cherished and then passed on to Joe to care for. Gadreel tried to swallow the bitter taste that had suddenly appeared in his mouth. Joe had succeeded in caring for his father’s prized possession. Gadreel hadn’t.  
   
Keys are hanging up on the hook by the light switch if you want to take it out for a spin. I used to go on every day off I had. Just ride out into the countryside, wind in your face, sun on your back. Nothing like it. Pure freedom, my angel friend.  
   
He has the keys in his hand when his phone rings. It’s Metatron, with another recruitment mission. Reluctantly, he puts the keys back on the hook and carefully covers the bike.  
   
You really should tell him you need a day to yourself. You deserve to enjoy some of your time down here.  
   
“I can’t. I have orders. I have to follow them.”  
   
Right now? Can’t it wait an hour or so?  
   
“No, I must go now.”  
   
Why?  
   
Gadreel closes and locks the front door of the townhouse with a resigned sigh. “I suppose it just is.”


	8. Humanity

Gadreel is happiest when Metatron allows him to wander among the humans, which it allowed more than Gadreel expects it to be. He’s given a car and freedom to wander about until the next order comes his way and it’s the happiest he has been since the Garden. He watches humans and tries to mimic them in every way he can. 

One day he spends in Chicago trying every single pizza restaurant and trying to figure out which one really does have the best pizza. It is difficult since food tastes different to angels than humans but he find he was partial to a small restaurant off a back alley that was run by a young married Sicilian couple with three children running around in the kitchen. 

He spent a day in San Francisco eating as if he was a vegetarian and visiting the various farmer’s markets. A local man who was selling honey asked him if he had seen Alcatraz. It peaked his curiosity but when he found out it was a prison, he quickly declined the offer of seeing it. Instead he accompanied the man and his group of friends to a rave that evening. He still was not exactly clear as to what took place that night but he still has the glow-in-the-dark bracelet that was given to him. 

He spends a day on Chincoteague Island watching the ponies swim between Maryland and Virginia. He watches an Amish barn raising in Ohio. He passes through a town in Oklahoma that was been leveled by a tornado and helps search for survivors with desperate family members. He stands outside a chain link fence and watches planes take off and land. 

The world post-Eden is wild, dangerous and in complete disrepair. But the humans he has come across have been kind, open hearted creatures that they were meant to be at the very beginning. And he’s left wonder just how severe was his mistake? 

But the place that he frequents most often is a small bookstore in a nondescript town. The storeowner is a young woman who inherited the store from her mother. There is a peacefulness to the small space and she allows him to come and sit in the back corner of the store whenever he pleases. She even put a overstuffed armchair for him to use whenever he came. 

Metatron’s love of stories and books is hard to ignore. But Gadreel grows tired of hearing the stories from someone else’s perspective and starts reading them for himself. He asks the woman, Emma, what her favorite book is and she hands him a copy from behind the desk. 

“It’s my new favorite,” she admits sheepishly. “Ask me next week and it might be a different book.” 

So he sits and reads “The Fault is in Our Stars” by a John Green and has to work extremely hard at containing his emotions when he finishes it. He hands it back to her though and thanks her for sharing it with him. 

When he returns, he asks her what her new favorite book happens to be that week and he ends up reading “The Hunger Games.” He returns the following two days so he can finish the trilogy. She starts him on what are referred to as classics which he enjoys much better. After “Treasure Island,” “Peter Pan,” and “Sherlock Holmes,” Emma asks him to pick a book he would like to read. He’s never picked a book out for himself and doesn’t even know where to begin. 

“Why don’t you look at some of the bestsellers and pick from there? A lot of people choose that way,” she suggests. 

But when he reaches for one with a black cover, she practically slaps it out of his hand. 

“Don’t read that one. It’s garbage.” 

He looks at the cover and wonders how “Fifty Shades of Gray” is considered garbage. But he trusts Emma’s opinion on the stories in her store. “What would you suggest then?” 

“Well, if it’s romance you want to read about, my all time favorite has to be ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.” 

And he has to admit at the end of the day her choice was not “garbage.” 

But when he returns the next time, the shop is closed. There is a notice on the door announcing a public auction of the business and everything inside of the small shop. Confusion causes his mind to stutter and he forgets to breathe. Emma never said anything of closing the shop, never mentioned anything to him during their interactions. 

“It’s a shame. She had good taste in books.” 

Gadreel turns to see Metatron standing outside of the store. “Did you do this?” 

The scribe frowns, his eyes filling with pity. “Humans are fragile creatures, you know this. And accidents happen.” 

He swallows hard. “Is this my fault then?” 

Metatron shrugs. “Who knows? Does it matter? A tragedy is still a tragedy. But,” he casts a disdaining look at the shop window. “If you want some good books to read you should have just come to me.” 

But Gadreel had enjoyed Emma and her quiet spirit. She had treated him with warmth and friendship. She would make him cups of tea and share her lunches with him. There was a kindness in her that Metatron lacked. 

“Gadreel, you can love humanity all you want. But remember, you can love them too much. And when you do, they will be the ones to suffer the consequences.”


	9. Innocence

Gadreel doesn’t take much time away from his post but when he does, he doesn’t go back home. He takes the reprieve to walk around the Garden, see the wondrous creation first hand. The animals come out to greet him and flowers bend themselves towards him. Everything breathes and pulses with life and it truly is perfection. 

He feels something combing through the feathers of his wings. It’s a light touch and he wonders if a bird has decided to help with the order of things. He turns his head and sees a pair of mirthful brown eyes staring at him over the arch of his left wing. 

Eve. 

It is a game between them. Whenever he would enter the Garden, she would inevitably find him. Sometimes Adam would be with her, sometimes it was just her. Adam is serious but talkative, eager to show off a new discovery. But Eve is playful. Adam learns about his surroundings, Eve enjoys them. 

He stays still, wondering what she will do this time but she remains peering at him from over his wing. With a quick movement, he spreads his wings out to their full wingspan. The wind they create with the movement kick up dirt and loose leaves. She loses her balance but lands on her feet not that far away. She stands gracefully, laughter bubbling out of her as she snatches one of his blue-green feathers from the air. She tucks it into her hair before running off into the Garden. 

One day, she comes to him and asks him about the Tree, the one that they’re not suppose to eat from. He advises her that it would not be a good idea and retrieves a mango for her instead. She takes another loose feather and adds it to the first before leaving his company. 

The next time he sees her, she approaches him boldly and smiling. “I spoke with your brother yesterday.” 

“You did?” He wasn’t aware of which brother she could be referring but smiles anyway. 

“He told me that the fruit is perfectly fine and safe to eat.” 

“Did he?” 

She nods. “He said that our Father said we passed the test and we can have some of it now.” 

He hadn’t heard anything concerning this change in the rules but Eve seemed certain. And she was one that spoke directly to their Father so he would have to trust her words. 

“Will you get me one, please? And one for Adam?” 

“Of course.” 

He plucks two pieces of the fruit and hands them to her. She had stolen another feather and had that added to the other two. 

“Do you know the name of my brother who told you this?” 

She nods and takes a bite of the fruit. “He said his name was Lucifer.” 

He watches her run off to find Adam and he can feel the ground crack underneath his feet.


	10. Inspiration

Metatron learns that even he is not immune to writer’s block. He’s sitting and waiting for inspiration to work itself around the knots in his story when he hears the heavy footfalls of his second in command pass in front of the study door. Every morning Gadreel left to go somewhere but was always back in time for the morning meeting to go over that day’s plans. Since he had enough of staring at the blank page, Metatron grabs his coat and heads out the door to see where exactly his quiet foil goes.  
   
It doesn’t take him long to realize that the direction Gadreel travels in will take him just a few miles out from the Men of Letter’s bunker. But he stops short of the actual bunker, choosing to settling into the low underbrush of a wooded area that would give him a view of the main road. Metatron, using a new trick to make sure he’s not detected, stands a few feet away and follows his gaze.  
   
He quickly grows impatient though. There is nothing here except the smell of dead leaves and shrill bird calls. It seems like such an exhaustive waste of time and he can’t figure out why Gadreel would choose to spend his free time like this. He turns to leave when it hears it. Gadreel hears it as well as turns his head in the direction of the noise. It’s the steady thump-thump-thump of someone running.  
   
It doesn’t surprise him at that point when Sam Winchester appears around the bend in the road. It’s less than a minute and he’s down the road, out of sight. Gadreel nods once, stands and begins his walk back to the home base.  
   
Metatron stands there however for a while longer. He should have expected this when he chose Gadreel. He had been a guard, a watcher of humanity. For him to break from that mold would be like a frog learning to tap dance. He had used Sam as a vessel longer than his current vessel so it made sense that he would check in with his old vessel every now and then.  
   
As Metatron starts his walk back home he realizes that it’s not just Castiel who is in love with humanity. It’s a realization that has brought with it some renewed inspiration.


	11. Intervention

This is an AU scene to my fic "The Second Garden." 

 

When they hear of Castiel’s army dispersing, Addy insists on going to the bunker and seeing if they can help. Michael agrees only out of curiosity as to what exactly the Mark of Cain has done to his original vessel. Gadreel knows that Castiel is an honorable angel and suicide bombers wouldn’t be something he would condone. Metatron would and Gadreel is tired of hearing of his brothers and sisters falling in these mindless ways.  
   
So they leave in the middle of the night and reach Lebanon, Kansas by the afternoon of the next day. Gadreel, from his time in Sam, knows how to gain entrance into the building. He’s surprised to find that they have beat the Winchesters and Castiel there. Michael stays in the garage, more interested in the classic cars than anything else.  
   
But Gadreel takes Addy to the library and watches as she explores ever corner of the room. From his time here, he remembers learning that the Men of the Letters passed the knowledge down through their family line. It was the Winchester line that were the members which would make Addy one as well. He’s about tell her that when they hear the front door open and three sets of footfalls on the stairs. He can feel the tension and the anger with two rooms between them.  
   
As they had talked about, Addy goes to the doorway between the kitchen and the library so she’s the first one they see. It goes exactly as he suspected it would. Sam is relieved to see her and doesn’t hesitate to embrace her. Castiel shows relief but Dean, Gadreel notices, Dean stands off in the back not quite sure what to make of her sudden appearance. He waits until he hears Addy tell them that he too is present before stepping into their line of sight.  
   
He knows Sam’s anger has cooled into tolerance and now resignation. Addy had followed through with her promise to call or text him every day and they did Skype at least once a week. He had seen firsthand her growth from scared coma patient to someone who could actually offer help to them. But Gadreel has followed through with his promise to protect her. It wasn’t enough for redemption, not yet, but it had earned him the first few steps in that direction.  
   
“The other one with you?” Dean asks.  
   
Addy frowns at the eldest Winchester. “If you mean Michael, then yes, he’s with us.” But then she turns to Castiel with a slightly more relaxed expression. “I hope having the head archangel in your corner helps.”  
   
“It does. Thank you.”  
   
“So that’s it then?” Dean says. “You show up, break in and offer help and all of sudden you’re on the team?”  
   
“As a matter fact, yeah, pretty much.”  
Gadreel can feel the Mark of Cain pulsing, as if it’s another entity in the room. He wonders if Addy can sense it but concludes she doesn’t because she steps up to face off with Dean without any hesitation or acknowledgement of the danger she is in. He maneuvers himself so he’s within arm’s reach of her. He doesn’t believe Dean would lash out at her, but he would rather not take chances.  
   
“The last time I saw you, it was when you high tailed it out of Denver with that one.” Dean points to Gadreel. “So what makes you think we’re going to accept you with open arms?”  
   
“The fact that you three don’t have a whole lot going for you right now. You need all the help you can get and I would think having an archangel, Eden’s guard and an angel anchor would look pretty damn good to you right now!”  
   
“It does,” Sam cuts in. “It looks fantastic, actually.”  
   
Dean turns towards Gadreel and the angel relaxes slightly, glad the attention has been refocused from Addy. “And so what? You’re part of the Angel Brigade now? Finally going to stand against Metatron?”  
   
“I took my stand against Metatron when I chose to protect Addy.”  
   
Dean smiles slightly. “Aw, did you hear that, Sam? It’s Addy now. Sounds like you two are getting cozy.”  
   
He doesn’t quite understand Dean’s meaning but he can guess at what “cozy” means. “I protect her. I care for her, yes, but that’s not why we’re here.”  
   
The taunting tone lessens. “And why are you here?”  
   
“To offer our assistance.”  
   
Castiel steps forwards. “And we greatly appreciate it.”  
   
“Well,” Dean takes a step back, “it looks like I’m outnumbered. Welcome back.”  
   
There’s no real sincerity in the statement but Gadreel takes what he can get. “Thank you.”  
   
Perhaps this was going to work. Perhaps they could all work together to defeat Metatron and get all the angels home. But then something in the air changes. Gadreel can’t figure out what it is exactly but something snaps. He sees Addy coiled and starting to spring into motion before he even sees the first blade. It’s enough of a warning for him lean back away from the strike. But Dean’s swing arcs high, nicking Gadreel’s shoulder before completing its path.

Sam and Cas rush forward to restrain Dean from doing more damage. Gadreel pushes himself to a standing position and starts to use his grace to pull the wound closed. He glances over at Addy to make sure she is alright only to find that is not the case. Her eyes are wide and frightened. Her hands are covering her neck, blood seeping out between her fingers. He reaches for her as she drops to her knees. She opens her mouth but blood bubbles out and runs down her chin. 

“Heal her!” Sam shouts. 

Gadreel’s hands hover over her neck but no matter how much he wills his grace to help her, the fact that she’s the anchor blocks his efforts. “I can’t...I can’t do anything.” 

Sam takes his plaid shirt off and wraps it around her neck in an effort to stop the bleeding. Cas is left to restrain, which isn’t that difficult since the elder Winchester looks horrified at the scene in front of him. This is the scene Michael walks in on and it only takes the archangel a moment to assess the situation. 

“Oh my, Dean. How far we’ve fallen this time.” Michael walks over to where the blade has fallen on the floor. In a quick movement, he brings his foot down on the jawbone and it shatters under the angelic force of the archangel. 

“Can you heal her?” Cas asks but Michael shakes his head. 

“We have to get her to the hospital then,” Sam says. 

“Go,” Michael tells them. “I’ll deal with Dean.” 

Gadreel carries her to the Impala and crawls into the backseat. He keeps his hand over her heart, each beat assuring him she would live, she had to. He had lost one garden, he wasn’t going to lose a second one. Sam tells the hospital staff that it was a mugging and they don’t ask for more of an explanation. It takes the doctors almost three hours to assess and repair the damage. They tell Sam and Gadreel that she will stay sedated for a few days until her throat heals from the worst of the damage but she will survive. 

Gadreel is sitting next to her bed, trying to look past the tubes and bandages and see the vibrant young woman he had spent the last six months protecting. But she’s pale, bruised and still has remnants of dried blood on her face. There’s nothing he can do for her so he takes her hand, more to reassure himself that she is in fact living and breathing. Sam gets the full update from the surgeon before coming into the room and sitting on Addy’s other side. This is how Castiel finds them an hour later and it looks like he has news of his own. There is no preamble to his announcement. 

“Dean said yes to Michael.”


	12. Rewritten

Castiel tries to reason with Hannah, tries to plead for her to see their side of things. She’s still listening, still talking to him but he is starting to see to the doubt in her eyes. Doubt is a precursor to fear and fear makes angels run. He’s tired, the grace inside of him sputtering out, and he wishes he had some help in convincing her. 

Then he realizes, he does have help. He has Gadreel, Metatron’s second in command who has finally been pushed to his limits by the scribe’s actions. He mentions him by name hoping his ally in the cell next to him will speak up but there’s only silence. Castiel tries to stretch out all his senses to get a read on Gadreel but it’s as if the angel isn’t even there. Hannah glances into the other cell and didn’t seem alarmed which means the former guard was still there. A cold feeling settles into the pit of Castiel’s stomach. Fear makes angels run. But what would happen to an angel who had no place to run? 

“Would you rather I not try at all?” He’s getting desperate. He has to get her to let them out and soon. 

“Not if you can’t prove it.” 

It’s a window of opportunity and Castiel latches onto it greedily. “So give us a chance. Let us out, Hannah.” He tries to put strong emphasis on the “us” so Gadreel wouldn’t think he would be left here to waste away again. 

Hannah presses her lips into a tight line. She wants to believe him, he can see it in her eyes. She wants to believe in a nonviolent end to this mess. But she also feels the pull of duty. She had been loyal to Castiel and now is in Metatron’s camp. What it would it look like to switch sides again? 

There’s a slight sound that finally emerges from Gadreel’s cell. He’s moving around now and Castiel hopes that it’s a sign that the angel has roused himself from the shock of being in a cell once again. He starts to speak but the cadence is off, the tone odd. 

“I sat in this hole for thousands of years, thinking of nothing but redemption, of reclaiming my good name. I thought of nobody, no cause, other than my own.” 

Castiel listens closely, willing himself to understand the subtext of the words. “You’ve been redeemed, my friend.” He hopes it’s enough to assure his brother that someone saw him as more than a tool or a failure. 

“The only thing that matters in the end is the mission, protecting those who would not and cannot protect themselves...the humans.” 

Castiel replays the words back in his mind. The only thing that matters in the end...in the end...He practically lunges at the bars towards Hannah. “You have to stop him!” 

Hannah gives him a confused look before looking into the other cell and her face reflects the horror of what Gadreel is doing. He’s still talking about protecting humans and how nothing is more important than that and not allowing their fear to prevent them from accomplishing that mission. He’s irrational and judging from the look on Hannah’s face, the sigil is already carved into his chest. 

“Talk him down, Hannah!” 

“I don’t...I don’t...” she’s terrified, caught in between running or helping. 

“You and I both want the same thing, no more angel deaths. Let’s start with him! Now!” 

It’s enough to spur her into motion. “Gadreel, please, look,” she pulls the key out from her pocket with a shaking hand. “I’ll let you out, okay? Please, just don’t.” 

There’s a pause but Castiel can hear the labored breathing of an angel who has given up completely. He didn’t realize that despair had a scent, sour and caustic. It fills the cells now, burning his throat and lungs. 

“Move to the other side of your cell, Castiel.” 

Castiel pulls on everything he has in him to sound the like the commander angels like Hannah had believed him to be. “No. I won’t.” 

The breathing hitches in the adjoining cell. “This is the only way out.” 

“It’s not, Gadreel. There are other ways.” This isn’t working. Gadreel is past reason so Castiel uses the only thing that could ever get through to him: guilt. “I healed you, Gadreel. I used up my grace to heal you and now you’re going to waste that, for what? To show everyone that all you’re good for is being used? You’re better than this. Show them they’re wrong. Show them a lifetime of pain can be healed by making the right choices. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but you’ve done many things right. Don’t throw those right decisions away.” 

There is a sound, a mix of a sob and a gasp. Hannah appears at Castiel’s cell door and quickly unlocks the door, swinging it wide open. Castiel immediately steps out and over to the other cell. The sight is enough to bring tears to his eyes. Gadreel is broken in every sense of the word. He’s bleeding, tears running down his face and mixing with the drops of blood on the floor. He still is holding a sharpened piece of rock in his hand. 

But that isn’t even the saddest part of the picture: his door is open and he’s still standing in the center of the cell. 

Castiel motions around him. “See? Hannah let us out. There’s no need for you to do this. You’re better than this. You deserve better than this.” 

Hannah stays by Castiel’s side, tears running down her face as well. “Please. Put it down. I believe you now, about Metatron.” 

Castiel steps up to the threshold of the cell. “See that? Hannah’s going to help us. We came here to complete a mission. Let’s finish it together, brother.” He holds his hand out to Gadreel. 

Gadreel closes his eyes and bows his head. A few seconds tick over and finally the sharpened piece of rock falls out of his hand with an insignificant crack as it hits the floor. When he raises his head, Castiel feels he’s looking at the angel for the first time. Guilt no longer bows his broken wings. Shame doesn’t push his head down. Determination straightens his back. He can see the Guardian of Eden, proud and strong starting to shine through the cracks. Gadreel reaches out and clasps Castiel’s arm. Fingers that had curled around a weapon now grip Castiel’s elbow. 

“It’s time to step out of your prison. You’ve been in there for too long, my friend.” 

Gadreel is too overcome with emotion to reply but does cross the threshold without a backward glance to the prison cell. He goes to take another step but is stopped by Hannah, who has pressed her hand to his chest. The sigil disappears under the glow of grace, like a sin that has been washed away. Hannah steps back then and looks to Castiel. 

“What is it that you’re looking for?”


	13. Hope (Gadreel's Vessel Part 1)

His life is a mess. 

Twelves years of military training, four years service in Afghanistan and he returns home unable to function. All the discipline, all the hard work crumbles because a car back fires or a certain song plays on the radio or someone, like tonight, drops a glass on the floor. Who knew the shattering of a beer mug could sound like a gunshot? 

Joseph Sullivan does. 

He sits on the side of his bed, drenched in sweat and his heart beating out of his chest. The sleeping pills were suppose to knock him out, keep the nightmares at bay, but not tonight. He gets up and goes into the small kitchen. Opening the cabinet over the refrigerator, he pulls out the bottle of Jack Daniels. If the pills won’t work, then alcohol might. He doesn’t even reach for a glass but unscrews the cap and starts drinking. 

He needs an answer. He needs help. He needs to forget what happened. He can’t cope with the sleepless nights and the guilt weighing down on him. He had been a sniper, one of the best in his unit. But while his friends celebrated his kills, all he could see was blood on his hands. So he had thrown himself into the rebuilding of the villages. He passed out food and candy to the children who came around the base. He helped rebuild homes and holy places. He had been doing repairs at an orphanage when a suicide bomber detonated his bomb just inside the entry way. The carnage, the aftermath of something like that you don’t heal from. Ever. 

He’s halfway through the bottle of whiskey when the tears start to come. There’s no stopping now when he reaches this point. He keeps drinking and crying until he’s on the floor, curled into himself and begging for something, anything that will give him hope. Hope in humanity. Hope in the good in people. Hope in himself. 

That’s when the voice comes to him and he’s certain it’s an alcohol induced illusion. 

There is hope. There is always hope. 

He laughs but it comes out more as a sob. He empties the bottle and sets it down next to him on the floor. His mind is almost numb and he hopes that passing out will allow him to escape the nightmares. Then he’ll just drink himself into a stupor every night until his bank account is drained or his liver gives out, which ever one comes first. 

There is a better future. I can give you something better than that. 

“What the hell are you?” 

I am an angel of the Lord.

“God’s dead. Read Nietzsche.” He had believed in God at one point, prayed to Him, went to church, the whole nine yards. But when you pull dead children out of rubble, well, the idea of an all-loving deity who is in charge of everything that happens, suddenly seems cruel and infuriating. 

That is not true. 

He was not going to argue with...whatever this was. “Go away.” 

You need help. And I need help. We can help each other, Joseph Sullivan. 

“What does an angel of the Lord need from me?” 

I need a place to heal myself. I need a vessel. 

He must be far more drunk than he thought. “A vessel? You want my body?” 

“Yes.” 

He starts to say no but stops himself. “What will happen to me if I say yes?” 

“I can place you in a dream of your own making. You’re soul will slumber while I do my work on earth.” 

A dream of his own making. A place where’s there no war, no bloodshed, no taking lives only living one out in peace. “And then when you leave?” 

“You’ll be healthy and whole once more, free to go about your life again.” 

It was the best chance he had at the moment. If he continued down this road he would end up dying of liver failure, a drug overdose or a bullet in his head. He always wanted to do good in the world, make an impact for the betterment of mankind. Perhaps this was the way to do it. “Fine, yes, I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you. Now, think of the life that you wish you had. The details of the day, the people you wish to see. I will create that world for you and that is the place you will reside in until my work is done.” 

He closes his eyes and does as the angel asks. He dreams of a home in a suburban neighborhood complete with the white picket fence. He dreams he comes home from a regular 9 to 5 job to a bright eyed wife who greets him at the door with kiss. He dreams of two children, a boy and a girl vying for his attention as they chatter about their day in school and requests for him to play with them until dinner is ready. 

Finally, he is able to smile.


	14. Broken (Gadreel's Vessel Part 2)

It is the closest thing to home that he can ever hope to return to: a small, whitewashed clapboard house in rural Texas. It’s not his home but rather it belongs to his vessel’s mother. Debra Sullivan has lived there by herself for many years despite being so far away from the nearest town. It was a concern to Gadreel’s vessel and so whenever he had a chance, he would make the drive to check on her.  
   
The first visit did not go very smoothly. He had tried to pass himself off as her son, drawing on the vessel’s memory but she saw through him immediately and didn’t even open the door. Rather, she stood behind the screen door, arms crossed and scowling.  
   
“You’re not my son.”  
   
He hadn’t expected the words to sting as much as they did. The accusation robbed him of his speech and he started to turn away when she called to him again.  
   
“What are you?”  
   
He doubted she would believe him no matter what he told her so he went with the truth. “I’m an angel.”  
   
“Where’s my son?”  
   
“Still inside. I have him locked in a dream of his own making.”  
   
“My son’s dreams are not something he should be locked in.”  
   
He nodded in understand. “I can assure you, it is not a nightmare. He is happy, peaceful.”  
   
“Come back next week.”  
   
She shut the door firmly and he left. But he kept track of the days and returned a week later just as she had requested. He knocked, she came to the screen door and stood there staring at him for a few minutes.  
   
“You came back.”  
   
“That is what you asked of me.”  
   
“You always do what people ask of you?”  
   
He thought of the things he’s done since he fell. He possessed Sam Winchester without proper consent because Dean told him to do it. He followed Dean’s orders and saved lives. Then Metatron offered him a way back home with a new reputation. And then he remembered the lives he had taken for Metatron. “I do my best to follow the orders given to me.”  
   
“So you’re just a good ole soldier boy then. Is that why you picked my son?”  
   
“You’re son prayed for assistance. I answered.”  
   
“What kind of assistance?”  
   
“He was having difficulty with certain…experiences. It was making it hard for him to live normally from day to day. He was…close to giving up.”  
   
She nodded slowly, understanding what he was trying to express without directly saying it. “Do you have a name or should I just call you ‘angel?’”  
   
“My name is Gadreel.”  
   
“Gadreel,” she repeated. “Come back next week.”  
   
And here he is, back for the third time and he still hadn’t accomplished his goal of offering his assistance to Debra Sullivan. Though, he wonders if she even needs assistance. He walks up the path to the front door but notices she’s placed potted plants on the front stoop. He takes a moment to appreciate the bright colors of the blooms and the fresh life they bring to the otherwise arid landscape.  
   
“You like flowers, Angel?” Debra says from the front door.  
   
“Yes, I do.”  
   
“They’re hard to come by out here.”  
   
He imagines so. Before he can so, the squeak of hinges stop him from speaking. Looking up, he sees Debra has opened the door for him. He takes a hesitant step towards her but pauses on the threshold.  
   
“You coming in, Angel or are you just going to let bugs into my house?”  
   
He steps into the house and the screen door closes behind him with a crack. His eyes adjust to the dark interior of the home. It’s small but well kept. The vessel itself seems to relax, breathing comes easier and the muscles slacken. He see a photograph of his vessel dressed in a military uniform. 

“He was in the Marines,” Debra informs him as she hands him a glass of iced tea. “He was a sniper in Afghanistan. But you already know that don’t you?” 

“I have the information. That doesn’t mean I understand it completely.” 

She stares up at him for a long time, looking at him with the same eyes he sees in the mirror. “You’ve seen things you shouldn’t have seen too. Haven’t you, Angel?” 

He drops his eyes and presses his mouth together so keep an answer from escaping. 

“I see.” She sits down in an old wooden rocking chair. “So what exactly do angels do?” 

He folds himself up and sits in small armchair. “Our primary purpose is to aid humanity.” 

“You aid them by possessing them?” 

He thinks of Sam Winchester as well as the vessel of this woman’s son. “Some require healing from the inside out. Possession makes that possible.” 

“And that’s what you’re doing? Healing him?” 

“Yes.” 

“From what exactly?” 

Gadreel doesn’t know the terminology and can’t express to her what he’s doing. “I can only say I know how things are suppose to work and I fix what isn’t working. Most of the issues are in the brain.” 

She nods solemnly. “They told me he had PTSD. When he came home from overseas, he would wake up screaming. When he moved into town, I worried it would be the last I would see of him.” 

It was a well founded fear though he would never tell her that. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments until he had a question of his own. “Why did you let me in today?” 

She smiles slightly. “I’m dying, Angel. Time is running out for me and I wanted to know that my son was going to be alright.” 

He didn’t notice it until now, that he’s looking for it. A mass of poison in her brain that is flooding her entire body with its toxins. He sets the glass of tea down and stands up. “I can heal you of that.” 

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps. “Heal my son. Fix him.” 

“I can do both.” He wasn’t at full strength yet but he certainly had enough to help her. “Wouldn’t that be what your son would want? You healthy?” 

“Angel, this is the order of things. When you upset that, you change things that aren’t meant to be changed. I have cancer. I will die from it. And I’m okay with that.” 

“Why? Why would you choose death over life?” 

“Because I can. And now that I know my son will be alright, healed and whole, that’s all that matters to me.” 

It isn’t the first time that a human has left him speechless. It seems so pointless to not heal her. He takes another step towards her but she stands and closes the space between them. 

“I would like to hug my son now, Angel.” 

He nods and rouses her son from his dream. Perhaps he can change her mind. But when he comes to the surface, Gadreel learns this is not new to him. He had known she was ill, that there was no hope of recovery. He had made peace with it because she had. He’s a witness now as his vessel hugs his mother and whispers his goodbye to her. When she stands back, she wipes the tears from his face. 

“Alright, where’s the angel?” 

Gadreel returns to the forefront of the vessel’s consciousness. “You’re sure you do not want me to heal you?” 

“I’m sure.” 

She still has her hands on either side of his face and he leans into the touch. It’s the first time he has been touched with any semblance of warmth since Abner had been his cell mate. He memorizes the feel of her callused fingertips moving over his cheekbones, her smooth palms curved around his jawline. 

“You’re just as broken as the rest of us, Angel. But that’s not always a bad thing. There’s a beauty in it, a strength and dignity. Don’t ever think you’re a throw away because of it.” 

He swallows down the tears that have welled up in his eyes. He can barely breathe, his chest is so constricted. 

“You take care of my son and he’ll take care of you. Promise me you’ll take care of him.” 

It takes a couple tries but he finally finds his voice. “I promise.” 

“Good.” She releases him and steps around him. “Goodbye then, Gadreel.” 

He’s back in his car before he even realizes that he’s moved from the living room. He returns to his duties more troubled than before. The killing, the recruiting, Metatron’s growing arrogance, it only makes him doubt what he’s doing more and more. A week passes and he finds himself driving down the dirt road. He walks up the path to the front door and finds it locked. 

“Joseph?” 

It’s the name of his vessel so he answers to it. “Yes?” 

It’s one of the neighbors from farther down the lane. “I’m so sorry, son. You’re Mama was an incredible woman.” 

So she was gone. He pushes down the grief he feels at losing the only person who had shown him true compassion. “Thank you.” 

“You let me know if you need anything.” 

He nods and the man leaves. Gadreel stands on the stoop of the house and stares at the screen door hoping it’ll open anyway and Debra would be there, long white hair in a braid and sparkling green eyes. But there is only silence. Finally he turns, and picks up one of her potted plants and carries it with him back to the car. He sets it down on the floor on the passenger side of the car and notices the pot has a slight crack in it. 

He finds that very fitting.


	15. Brother

“You’ve been deceived, Gadreel.” 

Castiel says it like he’s imparting some deep, dark secret. Gadreel knows he has been deceived. It seems that it is all he is capable of being. Lucifer and now Metatron. He knows what deception looks like, he knows what it is to be deceived. He just wishes he can see it before it happens. Before he’s already far down a road he didn’t want to be on. Before the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters can be connected to him. 

“How many did you say were slain?” The question is like ash in his mouth. But he needs to know. 

Castiel frowns but there is sympathy in his eyes. “Many.” 

“I did not know. I believed I was gathering followers, bringing our family back together. I did not know that those who did not wish to join Metatron would be...” he cannot bring himself to say the word. He is a guard. Protection is his main function. The idea of slaughtering family for differing ideas wounds him deeper than an angel blade. 

“Metatron is saying it is you who is responsible for the deaths. That you gathered them and slain them.” 

“I wouldn’t-” 

“I believe you.” 

The ground is shifting under him. He can feel it deep in the center of his grace. Metatron is not the new God. He is the new Lucifer. And Gadreel never wanted to do Lucifer’s bidding and he certainly doesn’t wish to continue in Metatron’s service if this is what is happening. 

Unfortunately, those who accompanied him are growing restless. They can feel the shift in his loyalties as surely as he can. The attack from them comes quickly but Castiel is a soldier. He is prepared for a fight. Gadreel retreats, defending himself and keeping some of the attackers away from Castiel so the other angel doesn’t become overwhelmed. But it is Castiel who cuts down the attackers. Gadreel is done taking the lives of his brethren. 

Castiel wipes the blood from his blade and returns it to its hiding place. “Thank you.” 

Gadreel nods. “I saved you once. I would do it again.” 

Confusion breaks across Castiel’s face and tilts his head to the side. “You saved me once?” 

Of course he wouldn’t remember. “There was a reaper-” 

“April, yes. Dean told me that she brought me back before he killed her.” 

Gadreel was certain that once Dean told Castiel the situation of Sam’s possession, the truth would have come out concerning the reaper occurrence. It did not surprise him that Dean would only speak of the negative events surrounding Sam’s possession. He wouldn’t be the first person to dwell on Gadreel’s crimes and forget the good that he was capable of doing. 

“I am sorry-” 

Castiel puts a hand on Gadreel’s shoulder. “Tell me what happened.” 

Gadreel nods. “Very well. The reaper had knocked Sam out. When I investigated to see what had happened, I heard Dean call your name. There was distress and grief. So I took over Sam and healed you.” 

“You brought me back?” 

“I did.” 

Castiel’s hand is still wrapped around Gadreel’s shoulder and he squeezes it briefly.   
“Thank you,” he pauses briefly, “brother.” 

Gadreel tries to tamper down the emotion that swells at being called that once more. It has been thousands upon thousands of years since he has been called that. He places his hand on Castiel’s opposite shoulder. 

“There are things that I know that you need to be aware of. There is a door.” 

“To Heaven?” 

Gadreel nods and smiles. “And I know where it is located.”


	16. Wings

He was an outcast. Newly created and standing on still wobbly legs, he’s known he’s an outcast. He spent most of his time hiding, tucked away in Heaven’s nooks and crannies. He would have been fine and out of the way if it weren’t for his wings.  
   
They were monstrosities. Far too large for him and brightly colored in hues of blue and green. The majority of angels had much more muted shades of feathers: whites, beiges, grays and charcoal colorings. Even the four Archangels had these quieter hues. Then there was him: a riot of color and clumsiness.  
   
One of his favorite places to hide was Heaven’s garden. It was the only place that seemed to camouflage him at all. The white halls that interested most of the angels only made him seem that much brighter but hiding among the trees and vines of the garden, he would go by unnoticed. 

Mostly at least. 

It didn’t work the one day he tried to fly from one end of the wild terrain to the other only to have a wing tip tangle in a group of vines and it brought him down. Only he never made it to the ground and was hung up by one wing, dangling upside down.  
   
“Well, look at this, brother! Angels do grow on trees!”  
   
All Gadreel wanted was to disappear when he heard the unmistakable jovial voice of Lucifer. The brightest, most beautiful angel to ever inhabit Heaven approached him with an easy smile and mirth in his eyes.  
   
“Do you happen to need some help, little one?”  
   
Gadreel tried to dislodge his wing but only managed to tighten the vines more. “I’m fine…I’m…”  
   
Another voice let out a low whistle. “Little one? Lucifer, are you blind? Look at the size of those wings.”  
   
Michael. It was bad enough Lucifer was helping disengage his wing but Michael was with him. Gadreel wondered if angels could die of embarrassment. He supposed he was about to find out when the vines gave way and he landed face first in the dirt.  
   
“Did he break it?” Michael asks.  
   
“No, I think he’s fine,” Lucifer answers. “What’s your name?”  
   
He stood up on shaky legs. “Gadreel.”  
   
“You must be one of the new ones. Do you have a job yet?”  Michael asked.  
   
Gadreel shook his head. “No, not yet.”  
   
Lucifer chuckled. “One of the really new ones.”  
   
Michael steps forward. “Let’s see that wingspan.”  
   
Gadreel shook the sticks and leaves out of his wings and lifted them slightly from his back. He expected jeering and laughing, like he had experienced at the hands of other angels like Thaddeus and Uriel. But Michael and Lucifer only regarded him with genuine interest.  
   
“I think he can do that better than that,” Lucifer said. “Can’t you, Gaddie?”  
   
He doesn’t know what they want from him until Lucifer emits a chuff and throws his wings out to their full extension. They’re beyond beautiful, pure white and gleaming in the light. Gadreel forgot that they want him to do the same and he ended up staring up at the canopy of perfect feathers in awe.  
   
“Maybe you’ll have better luck with him, Michael.”  
   
Gadreel turned to the older brother who crouches low and then springs forward, opening his own wings. They’re similar to Lucifer’s, only a slightly different hue of white. They’re softer looking but wider, stronger looking. He looked back and forth between them and realized with shock that they were playing with him. There was no menacing behind their eyes, they found a younger sibling and were playing with him. A delighted laugh bubbled up from him and Gadreel opened his wings up as wide as they could go.

He spent the afternoon with the two brothers, mock fighting and comparing wingspan. It was the first time he hadn’t felt awkward or odd. The frightful, warrior Michael and his younger, charismatic brother had actually time to spend their new awkward little sibling. It was an event no one would believe but he would cherish it for the rest of his existence. 

“So what kind of job do you think Father is going to give this colorful fellow?” Lucifer asked as they left the garden to return to Heaven proper. 

Michael looked down Gadreel for a moment. “You’ll grow into those wings, one day. I believe you’ll be a force to be reckoned with then.” 

“Nah,” Lucifer ruffled the young angel’s hair, “he’s too gentle. Guard?” 

Michael nodded. “Guard.” 

“What am I going to guard?” Gadreel asked. 

Lucifer laughs. “Hopefully something that will allow you to blend in, my brightly colored friend.” 

***

Michael and Lucifer had been right in their assessment of him. He did grow into his wings, strong and powerful. There were still some angels that heckled him for the brightly colored plumage but it didn’t matter, not when he could be seen sparring with Michael, playing tricks with Lucifer and raiding the sweet fruit trees with Gabriel. 

Raphael was the only archangel that paid him no mind. He was too busy training a new order of angels, the Rit Zeins. But Gadreel’s closest friend at the time, Jael, had assured him that it wasn’t personal since she had been one of the chosen to start this class of angel. She had described Raphael as severe but kind hearted. 

It was just another day of spending time with his brethren in Heaven’s garden, an angelic game of hide and seek more or less. Gadreel found Michael, as was usual for them. Lucifer could hide like no other angel and was also the last one to be found. Michael was less subtle and easier to find. Gadreel wrapped his wings around himself, the green and blue acting as the perfect camouflage in the wild garden. He peered out between the feathers until Michael was within striking distance before charging the more powerful angel. 

Much as they had done years ago, they end up chuffing and charging each other, wings splayed in all their glory. They wrestled through the underbrush, splashing through the stream and ending up splattered with mud by the time Lucifer crashed into the both of them and laid them flat. They were just finding their footing once more, standing in a circle ready to continue in their horseplay, when another angel crashed through the underbrush and jumped into their circle. 

At first Gadreel was afraid it was Joshua, the garden’s maintainer. It wouldn’t have been the first time the angel had scolded them for the destruction of the plant life and harmony of the garden. But a quick glance showed that this was not Joshua. The angel was a young one, scrawny and unsteady on his feet. His wings were a blue-black, one of the darker shades that Gadreel had seen. But he was standing at the ready, wings spread and eager to join in with the play.

“And who is this little warrior?” Lucifer asked. 

“Michael! Lucifer! Gadreel!” Joshua shouted through the trees and Gadreel could tell he was not happy about mess he and Michael had left along the stream’s bank. 

Gadreel scooped up the young angel as the two archangels took off into the garden. They zig-zagged through the lesser known paths and met each other in the white halls of Heaven proper. Michael was shaking out twigs and leaves from his wings while Lucifer took care of the mud splatter that was dirtying the pristine floor and walls. Gadreel set the younger angel who looked slightly disheartened at missing out on the fun. 

“And what is your name?” Gadreel asked him. 

The angel perked up a bit, fluffing up his wings and standing tall. “Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.” 

Michael and Lucifer chuckled at the show of heart. 

“Indeed you are,” Gadreel commented. “A fine warrior you will grow into, I’m sure.” 

***

“I don’t like it.” 

It was the first time that any of them had a disagreement and it made Gadreel uneasy in a way he had never felt before. “What don’t you like about it?” 

“Another race of creatures? Why do we need them?” 

“We don’t,” Michael chimed in. “But Father wants to create something again, just as he created us.” 

Lucifer laid back on the river bank. “How soon we forget the Leviathan debacle. What are things going to be called?” 

“Humans,” Gadreel answered. “I believe they’re to be called humans.” 

“And what do you think about things, Gadreel?” Lucifer asked. 

“I think I will rather like them. I have enjoyed everything else that our Father has created, why not them?” 

Lucifer grinned crookedly. “You enjoy the Leviathans?” 

“Not so much. But the humans will be different.” 

“I know why Gaddie’s happy about the humans,” Lucifer laughed. “Father’s putting him in charge of them.” 

Gadreel felt a sting of embarrassment. “He is not. I am merely in charge of guarding the place where the humans will live.” 

“Did you know that, Michael?” Lucifer closed his eyes. “We’re sitting here with God’s Most Trusted angel.” 

Michael clapped Gadreel on the back. “Who do you think suggested Gadreel for the job?” 

Lucifer snorted. “You’re famous now, my friend. Everyone in Heaven is going to know your name for all eternity.” 

Gadreel rather liked the thought of that.


	17. Identity

He wakes and feels like he’s suffocating. He can’t draw air into his lungs and he wonders if he’s fallen again. The idea that Thaddeus has found a new way of torturing him: a thinly veiled illusion of freedom only to have it yanked back and he’s imprisoned again. He opens his eyes, wheezes and draws himself up to a crouched position. Holy fire surrounds him. 

And Dean Winchester is pacing along the line of fire liked a predator. 

“You wanna help, start with a name.” 

He had hoped, foolishly, that he would be able to offer his assistance without providing a name. Apparently that is not to be the case. He thinks about lying, choosing the name of an already dead angel he happened to stumble upon shortly after his own fall. Ezekiel was a good and honorable angel. He could assume the name, the reputation...but it would not be his own. He swallows the lie along with the bitterness. 

“Gadreel. My name is Gadreel.” 

Dean repeats the name but there is no understanding behind it. Perhaps, just perhaps, he may be able to help someone this time. 

***

Sam Winchester is almost dead. Gadreel lays a hand on the motionless man in the hospital bed. His heart beats half-way against the angel’s hand. There is no instinctually rousing or stirring in the man’s soul. He is almost dead and at peace with the situation. Gadreel is weak himself and was hoping that the human would be able to meet him halfway. That is not the case. He doesn’t know how to properly explain the situation when Dean’s cell phone rings and he steps out into the hall to speak to the caller. 

Gadreel paces around the room, weighing the pros and cons. He could try to do straight healing session but then he would run the risk of using up all of his grace to do it. He was already wounded, weak and atrophied from being imprisoned. Add a fall to the injuries he had already suffered, it was a miracle he was standing. No, healing Sam Winchester out right would not work. 

There was possession. He could heal Sam from the inside out and be able to heal himself. Dean knew how to wield holy fire and angel blades which meant he would be able to protect Gadreel from other angels that would wish to cause him harm. But gaining consent was going to be the issue. Sam was too deep in his coma to be able to properly give consent. 

 

Then another problem presents itself. He can hear them coming before the ground starts to shake. The glass starts to vibrate in the room and he can hear the desperate call of a sibling seeking a vessel. 

“Gadreel?” 

He turns to see Dean stepping through the door and he knows. Gadreel can see the understanding and the betrayal in his eyes. He knows. “Yes.” 

“Gadreel? The one who let the serpent into the Garden and wrecked humanity?” 

Whoever had been on the phone must have filled Dean in on his reputation. “I am.” 

“So what are you doing here? What are you playing at?” 

“Redemption and I’m afraid it is not a game. Not to me. What happened back then...I made a mistake.”

“Been there.” 

“I’ve served my time in Heaven’s prison. I’ve been given a second chance in the fall. I will not waste it.” 

The room is shaking around them and Dean finally breaks eye contact to watch the glass windows warily. “One of yours?” 

“Seeking to secure a vessel, yes.” 

Dean grabs a marker and starts to draw sigils on the walls. Gadreel should have known his short stint of freedom would always end in a captivity. But when Dean finishes his work, he throws the marker down on the ground. 

“You want redemption, this is how you get it.” He points to his brother. “You save him.” 

No matter what he has to do, Gadreel will save Sam Winchester.


End file.
